


exile

by TheaKnightley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Angst and Feels, Bon Iver, Exile, F/M, Folklore, Gen, Inspired by Taylor Swift, Longing, Taylor Swift - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25604230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheaKnightley/pseuds/TheaKnightley
Summary: Inspired by Taylor Swift's 'exile' on folklore
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	exile

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done an 'inspired by a song' fic and I'm not even a huge TSwift fan, but there was one bit in 'exile' (not sure if even my fav song on this album? I really like 'mad woman' right now...) that just really stuck with me (not laughing at unfunny men is my jam, tbh). Am thinking (hoping) this will be a fic that each chapter focuses on a different pairing based on this song, but who knows when/if the muse will strike...

_ I can see you standing, honey _

_ With his arms around your body _

_ Laughin’, but the joke’s not funny at all _

\---------

She was so unhappy. How could no one else see it? Standing there next to him, his arms too tight around her rigid body, her eyes glued to her hands clasped together in front of her. Those brown eyes that were always so full of emotion were empty now, even as she joined in laughing at something mean and unfunny the Wanker said. 

He could make her laugh. 

He made her laugh a lot.

But it hadn’t been enough.

He took a long pull from his bottle of beer, ignoring whatever conversation was happening next to him as he continued to watch her, her shoulders tensing when his hand slipped down her arm to grip her hand.

How could no one else see how unhappy she was?

How could  _ she _ not see how unhappy she was?

He could make her happy. 

He’d made her happy once.

It took every fiber in Fred’s being not to punch that Wanker in the face and pull her into his arms and take her away from here.

That Wanker.

Fred ran a tired hand over his face. His own bloody brother. He was jealous of his own brother. He hated his own brother because he was with the love of his life. 

Hermione.

She seemed to only know to laugh when the others around them laughed. Ron’s followers, who laughed at anything he said, who lauded everything he’d done since the War. He’d done nothing since the War besides ride her and Harry’s coattails. These sad losers who followed his brother around, wanting him to write a memoir about his life, wanting to interview him, just wanting to breathe the same air as him.

Her laugh now rang hollow and false. Fred knew what her real laugh sounded like. Not this sad, sparse tinkling of a bell that she used when she wanted to boost Ron’s ego. Her real laugh came deep from her belly; it was uncontrollable and loud and she would throw her head back, her wild curls cascading around her shoulders. It was rare, but it was real and it was beautiful.

He wanted to make her laugh like that every day.

He tore his gaze away from her and closed his eyes as he clutched the beer bottle, not wanting to get lost in his memories of her. Not here, not now. 

She’d barely even given them a chance before she threw it all away.  _ It wouldn’t be fair to Ron _ , she had said.  _ I’ve got to give Ron a chance _ . 

Ron didn’t deserve that chance. And he didn’t deserve her now, not when it was so obvious how uncomfortable she was around him.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he opened his eyes to see his twin staring at him. He needed to get out of this room, out of this house, away from her.

He needed to be with her.

He took a deep breath, his eyes flashing to her one more time before he nodded at George and left the room, opening the door to outside, welcoming the cold air that hit him in the face. It cleared his mind. He tilted his head up to stare at the waning moon, the sky clear, and watched his breath as it floated above him and disappeared.

“Fred?”

He turned slowly, unsure that he actually heard her or if it was a figment of his imagination, a distant memory. His heart pounded when his eyes saw her pale face, her brown eyes wide as the moonlight washed over her.

“I’m ready.” Her whisper floated over to him and he felt his heart nearly skip a beat as he took a step towards her.

“Are you,” his voice croaked out, his hand reaching for her face, needing to ensure she was really there.

“I’m ready,” she said again, her voice stronger now as she lifted her head to look up at him.

His hands cupped her face as he stared into her chocolate brown eyes. He saw the fear there, the worry that she was hurting Ron, that she was hurting his family, but he slowly pressed his lips to hers and she leaned into him, her body molding to his.

They’d worry about the consequences later. They’d figure it out together.

_ Together _ .

He smiled into the kiss, his heart soaring, his arms snaking around to her waist to hold her tight against him. 

They were together. Finally, blessedly, together. And they could face anything. Starting tomorrow. Tonight was for them and only them. 

He took her hand and they walked in the moonlight, ready for another chance.

**Author's Note:**

> I normally love Ron (see my other stories, he's great!) but I needed him to be a bit of a dud here. 
> 
> I've never written something so a) short and b) melodramatic, despite the happy ending. Thoughts? Pairing ideas?


End file.
